That Old Fashioned Family Nobility
by ckret2
Summary: DH spoilers  Nineteen years after Voldemort's fall, the Malfoy name is far from admired. As Scorpius starts school, he struggles between family tradition and doing whatever it takes to regain respect for the Malfoys.


A/N: Am I the only one who likes their kids' names? Albus Severus Potter has a nice rhythm to it. And honestly, Scorpius isn't that much weirder than Draco; I know I thought WTF the first time I read "Draco Malfoy" way back in the first book. However, that's irrelevant right now, so moving on.

This is a one-shot. A very long one-shot, but still. That means this won't be continued, there won't be a sequel, and this is not the start of a longer fic. _One-shot_. I have no particular desire to follow Scorpius through his whole first year at Hogwarts, much less all seven. So, please don't ask me when I'm going to update, because I'm not going to and then I'll feel all guilty.

Reviews, criticism, questions, comments, and just about everything else much appreciated. Especially since I'm American and while I had a British beta to see if the dialogue sounded right for the characters (though for the most part I'm still using American spellings), I'm still open to advice. Please enjoy the fic.

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ and all characters from said series belong to J. K. Rowling. I own a few OCs, whom I had far too much fun naming, and the plot.

--**That Old-Fashioned Family Nobility**--

"Now remember," Draco said sternly, straightening his son's robes and skimming over the luggage to make sure his suitcase, bag, and caged owl were still there, "behave yourself at Hogwarts. Don't get yourself in trouble, don't start any fights, and don't make any brag that you can't backup twofold." He paused and then added, "Better yet, don't brag at all."

"Yes, Dad," Scorpius said dully as his father fussed over him. He'd heard this speech almost daily since he'd received his letter from Hogwarts.

"Don't make any enemies you don't have to. It's always preferable to have an ally, no matter who they are. Show respect to all the teachers, and don't you dare make fun of them where any other teacher can hear. They _will_ talk to each other, you know."

Scorpius's mother had already said her farewells and given her goodbye advice: _stay safe; study hard; try not to show off in Defence Against the Dark Arts_; and finally, _I love you_. Now, she was standing back at the exit, waiting for her husband and clearly trying not to get too weepy at the sight of her only son setting off for Hogwarts. She was dabbing her eyes with a deep blue handkerchief.

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy appeared to be nearly a decade older than they were; his hair was already receding, and hers was graying fast. As Scorpius watched his father speak, he could see the deep creases between his eyebrows and the nervous way his eyes darted around the train station, as if looking for anyone who might be looking for him.

"Yes, Dad."

Draco checked once more that Lucy (named in honor of Scorpius's grandfather) was firmly latched in her cage, and turned again to Scorpius. This time, he got down on one knee to speak – quite uncharacteristic of him. Even after all the trouble Scorpius's father had been through, after all the shame brought down upon him, he rarely did anything to compromise the air of nobility he'd retained for all these years. "Scorpius," he said in a low voice, "remember, if you see anyone, whether they're a student or a teacher, who even suggests that they support..." Draco trailed off and gestured at his left forearm, implying the presence of a Dark Mark.

"Right," Scorpius said. Voldemort's name was beyond taboo in the Malfoy household, so forbidden that he was not even referred to as You-Know-Who. He could only be mentioned in pantomime, without words.

"If you run into any of _those_ kind," Draco continued, "stay away. I don't care who it is; you can't associate yourself with one of them. You understand, don't you?"

"I do," Scorpius answered softly. He'd lived through enough to know that he never, ever wanted to see another Death Eater again in his life. He was terrified of what would happen to his father if someone heard that Scorpius was socializing with a supporter of Voldemort.

"Of course you do," Draco said. He suddenly leaned forward and pulled his son into a brief, tight hug. "Make the Malfoy family proud," he whispered, then pulled back and stood up.

"Now, did you remember to pack your..." He nodded at the suitcase.

His extra self-defence. Just in case. "Yes, Dad."

"Good," Draco said. "Don't miss the train." The train whistle blew loudly.

"Right! Bye!" Scorpius grabbed his bag and slung the strap over his shoulder, took Lucy's cage in one hand and the handle of his wheeled trunk in the other, and ran towards the Hogwarts Express. "I'll see you at Christmas!" He shoved his way into the train, found a compartment, and dropped his luggage on the floor in order to get to the window.

He stood at the window waiting for the train to start to move, and then he waved at his father until Platform Nine and Three-Quarters was out of sight, even though Draco had already turned and walked away without looking at his son once.

x

Soon after Scorpius had claimed a compartment, several older students came in, saw that only one person was occupying it, and decided that it was empty enough for them. As they came in, dragging their luggage with them – Scorpius noted that one of them had a chest with a Gryffindor lion emblazoned on the top – he decided it would be safer if he found a different, less occupied compartment.

He had traveled halfway down the length of the train, pausing to peek into the compartments without voices coming from within. He moved on after finding them in use, until he had located one with only a single occupant. She had her nose buried in a book when he opened the door and didn't glance up.

He cleared his throat. "Do you mind if I..." He gestured to the seat across from her.

"Oh!" She looked up, closing her book with her finger between the pages to keep her place. "Not at all. I'm not expecting anyone, at least. I don't know anyone yet. I'm a first year."

"Me too," Scorpius said, sitting across from her. He noted that her book was one of their textbooks, _A Wizard's Field Guide to Rare Beasts_ by Luna Lovegood Scamander. "Getting a head start?"

"No, not really. I'm just looking at the pictures." She flipped open her book to show that she'd been examining a two-page coloured photograph of a dragon. "I haven't seen any of these creatures before. My parents are ... whatchacallems, Muggies?"

"Muggles," Scorpius corrected. A bare flicker of a memory passed across his mind, someone from the Ministry of Magic eyeing his father and saying, half question and half accusation, "Muggle-hater?" The memory quickly faded.

"That's it!" The girl closed her book and smiled. "I'm Abigail Hunt." She offered her hand, and Scorpius took it.

"I'm Scorpius," he said, but didn't elaborate. The Malfoys weren't popular these days, and in any case, there was a good chance that someone happy to hear the name 'Malfoy' was the kind of person that his father had strictly reminded him not to go near.

"You must be from a wizarding family," Abigail said, and before Scorpius could show his surprise at how quickly she'd figured it out, she said, "Most wizards I've run into so far have pretty weird names. No offence," she added quickly.

"None taken." Scorpius didn't think his name was weird, but he figured it was a Muggle thing. At least she wouldn't know about the Malfoy family's history.

For the next few minutes, Abigail asked Scorpius questions about the wizarding world in general: about Hogwarts and what made magic work and how witches and wizards hid from Muggles, and he answered as best as he could. Eventually, she went back to looking at the illustrations in her book.

Scorpius gazed out the window as the scenery breezed past, thinking about Hogwarts. His father had told him much about it, but he still couldn't come to think of the school as a _place_, only a grand-sounding idea. He knew the names of most of the professors, the houses they'd gone through, the purity of their blood – though Draco had reminded him not to bring this up at school, as he didn't want anyone thinking his son was being raised to hate Muggle-born witches and wizards – his father had made a point of ensuring that he was fully educated about all the wizarding families of any rank. He knew many of the secret passages and chambers in the school, and how to use them without getting caught. He knew many more things, yet Hogwarts was still a far-off dream. He hoped that things would change when they arrived.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when someone slid open the door. An aging woman rapped on the doorframe after she'd already come through. She was holding a notepad and quill in her other hand, and a young woman followed her in. "Knock knock," she said, smiling plastically. "I'm looking for one Mr. Albus Severus Potter, has anyone in here seen him? I'm doing an interview for the _Daily Prophet_, they'd just love to hear about the journey to Hogwarts for the son of the Boy Who Lived..." The woman's gaze skimmed right over Abigail but focused on Scorpius. She eyed him up and down, and her grin stretched wider. "Well! If it isn't Sagittarius Malfoy!"

"Scorpius," he corrected. Weren't only students supposed to be on this train?

"Of course, dear," she said, and turned to the young woman behind her. "You keep on looking for the Potter boy, Gretel. I'll catch up in a minute."

"Yes, Aunt Rita," Gretel said, and left the compartment.

Rita walked further in, pulling shut the door behind herself as she did. "Well! It's been a while since the media has got a hold of the Malfoy family for an interview!" she said, sitting beside Scorpius, crossing her legs, and setting her notepad on her knee with her quill poised over it. "Tell me, Scorpio, might I be able to get a few quotes out of you on what life is like for your family?"

"It's _Scorpius_." He hesitated for a moment. He didn't particularly like this woman, but he could remember dozens of times when his father had avoided the eyes of reporters. Leaving the Ministry of Magic with Scorpius's hand tight in his grip after being put on trial before the Wizengamot, only muttering 'No comment' to their questions. He had always wondered why his father had never spoken up, to explain that he was innocent and that he'd never truly wanted to associate himself with Voldemort – and he never would have if it hadn't been for Lucius Malfoy's interference. Now was a chance for him to address the world on his father's behalf. "Sure. Go ahead," Scorpius said.

"Wonderful!" Rita gushed, sucked on the tip of her quill, and set it down on the notepad paper. Abigail gasped when she saw the quill standing on its own.

Rita turned her head sharply to look at Abigail. "Do you have something you'd like to say?" she asked.

"Oh, no," Abigail said quickly. "I'm just ... I'm not used to magic things like that. My parents are Muggles, you see."

"Is that so?" Rita's quill had taken off writing almost the moment Abigail started to speak. "This is a friend of yours, Scorpio?"

"I suppose. We just met," Scorpius said uneasily.

"So I see," Rita said, glanced down at her page, and murmured as the quill wrote, "'_Young heir to the noble Malfoy lineage, rebelliously mingling with Muggle-borns the moment he leaves his father's sight..._'" Scorpius thought he spied the phrase 'Romeo and Juliet' being scrawled on the page before Rita tipped her notepad away from him with a conspiratorial wink.

"Now, let's hear about your family," Rita said. "Proud of your pure bloodline, aren't you?"

"Y... yes, I am," Scorpius said. He had been raised to take pride in his family, after all.

"And of the deeds of your predecessors, I assume?"

"Not all of them." The reporter was trying to see whether or not the family still associated with the Death Eaters nearly two decades after Voldemort's fall, Scorpius could see that easily.

"Not all, hmm?" Rita echoed, and murmured, "'_Ambiguous answers may reveal lingering guilt..._'" Before Scorpius could ask what she meant, she threw another question at him. "Tell me about your grandfather."

"Which one?" Scorpius said.

Rita laughed. "On your father's side, of course. Lucius Malfoy." She leaned forward, looking straight in Scorpius's eyes as she spoke. She had a very sharp gaze for someone so old. "He's been locked away in Azkaban for, goodness, has it been six years now? You were only five years old when they took him in, you poor thing. What do you remember about Lucius?"

"Not very much," Scorpius said honestly. He remembered bits and pieces of trials he'd attended, though he couldn't recall which had been for his grandfather, for his grandmother, and for his father. "All I remember is when he taught me to print the alphabet." It was the only distinct memory he had of Lucius Malfoy.

"How precious," Rita said. Her quill sped up for a moment, and Scorpius knew it was writing far more than what he'd said. "A shame he was taken away, isn't it? He was so powerful, so influential, such a symbol of the might of the wizarding world! And, I'm sure you know, he was You-Know-Who's right-hand man, certainly a rank that, among other things, expresses what a great wizard he truly was. _Do_ tell me," her smile grew predatory, "have you any hopes to become a remarkable wizard, as was your grandfather?"

"No," Scorpius said.

Rita's quill froze mid-word. "Really," she said, slowly. "Please, elaborate."

He didn't like the way this interview was going at all, but he took a deep breath and attempted to explain himself. "Grandfather helped You-Know-Who do many terrible things," Scorpius said. "Whether or not he was great, I don't plan on doing anything that would put me on the same path that he followed. If that means that I never become remarkable in any way, I'm willing to pay that price to prevent myself from ever getting involved with a group like the Death Eaters." He had his mother and father to think about. He couldn't do anything to put them through any more trouble.

"So," Rita said, "you'd gladly cast off the mantle of Malfoy nobility to fight against Dark Wizards, for the rights of the unremarkable common populace."

"That's not quite what I said," Scorpius said, but Rita didn't seem to hear him. She stood up, taking her quill and notepad in her left hand and holding out her right to Scorpius. Her grip was tight and bony. "It has been an absolute delight talking with you," she said. "You're quite the gallant young man, especially considering your background. I'll be sure to do you justice with my article." She turned and swept open the compartment door, shouting, "Gretel, have you found that Potter yet?" The door shut, and she was gone.

A nervous pit had formed in Scorpius's stomach. He didn't like the way that conversation had gone. What kind of things was she going to write about him? He'd wanted to defend his family, to show the world that the Malfoys had changed, but somehow he thought that Rita hadn't gotten that story at all.

Abigail cleared her throat. Scorpius had almost forgotten she was there, witnessing his humiliation. "Who's this You-Know-Who that keeps coming up?" she asked.

Only a certain wizard named Lord Voldemort who had wanted to exterminate Abigail's kind, and Scorpius's grandfather had been behind the effort the whole time. "A wizard criminal, some years back," Scorpius said. "He had some followers and my grandfather fell in with them. Nothing to do with the rest of the family."

"I see," she said, nodding. She fiddled with her book a moment (once again closed on a finger to keep her place), and then confessed, "My uncle was arrested for identity theft, last year."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Scorpius said. He didn't know what identity theft was, but figured from Abigail's tone that it was a big deal in the Muggle world. In his mind, he saw someone using a Polyjuice Potion to impersonate someone else.

"Don't tell anyone else that," Abigail said sternly. "It just about tore our family apart, Mum was very close to her brother – I don't want this getting out here, where I can have a fresh start."

"I won't tell anyone. You have my word," Scorpius said. A fresh start... he hadn't thought of Hogwarts that way. He'd always considered it to simply be the next logical step for him, as the youngest generation in the Malfoy line. A continuation of a process, not the beginning of a new one.

"Good," Abigail said. "I only told you that because... I know what it must be like for you. I mean, you're from a wizard family and I'm from a normal one, but it can't be that different for us, right? It isn't easy."

Scorpius thought about his own mother, crying almost every night of his father's trial in front of the Wizengamot. He thought about the one time he'd ever seen Draco simply break down, when he was sure his wife wasn't looking, and Scorpius had awkwardly tried to comfort him when he really wanted to be comforted himself. He could almost imagine Abigail doing the same thing for a sobbing Muggle woman, her mother. "No, it isn't," he agreed.

The compartment door was pushed open by a woman with a trolley full of snacks. "Care for anything?" she asked, and the dark mood instantly dissolved. "I must warn you, the Chocolate Frogs have a new line of collectible cards, 'Heroes of the Wizarding Wars'. They'll be sold out the next time I come by, everyone's hoping to get a Harry Potter card!" She chuckled good-naturedly.

"We'll take two," Scorpius said, paid for the chocolates, and gave one to Abigail.

"Thank you," she said, opening hers and then looked at her collectible card. "Severus Snape." She turned the card over to look at the short biography on the back. "Who's he?"

"He was the shortest-lived headmaster in the history of Hogwarts," Scorpius said, and started to explain some about the past of the school, what little he'd heard about it. They continued talking the rest of the way to Hogwarts, mainly with Abigail asking questions and Scorpius answering. He made sure that the conversation never drifted towards his family again.

x

It was late and the sky was hidden when the Hogwarts Express finally stopped. The students were herded off the train, the first years placed four to a boat to head across the lake. Scorpius and Abigail got in a boat together, along with another boy and girl.

While Scorpius and the other girl were staring up as Hogwarts came into sight, the boy's gaze skimmed over the lake as if he were bored, and Abigail kept leaning over the edge of the boat to see where it went into the water. "It's propelled by magic," she said, pointing out the obvious. "Is there anything keeping it from tipping like a regular boat, or if we rock it enough will it turn over?"

"I suspect it would dump whoever was causing trouble and leave her behind in the water," the boy said, not bothering to look at her.

Abigail gave him an odd look, trying to decide whether he was mocking her or stating the truth. Scorpius didn't particularly like this boy; something about him seemed off.

Trying to restart the conversation, Abigail said, "Shall we introduce ourselves? I'm Abigail Hunt."

"Phernita Druidson," the other girl said. Scorpius recognized the name; the Druidsons had been a long line of purebloods until the late 1800s, when the heir had married a Muggle-born. When Draco had described them, he had almost opened his mouth to make some negative remark about the union, but had changed his mind and left it unsaid. Scorpius wondered what it had been, but odds are it was best for the Malfoys' reputation if it remained unspoken.

"I'm Scorpius."

At this, the bored boy's head snapped up and his mouth curved into a smile, as if someone had flipped a switch, turning his charm on. "Malfoy?" he asked, and held out his hand. "Thuban Lestrange, grandson to Rabastan Lestrange – I believe our grandfathers had some business together?"

_Don't make any enemies_, Scorpius's father had said, so he reluctantly put out his hand and shook. Phernita gave them an alarmed look. Apparently, she recognized their names. "I wasn't aware the Malfoys had a connection to the Lestranges," Scorpius said as coolly as he could.

"Well, naturally!" Thuban said. "Our families were both strong supporters of You-Know-Who. Of course," he cast a look and a smirk at Phernita, who noticed it, "it's safer not to mention that in certain company."

Phernita's face had gone white.

"I'm sorry, I make it my business not to associate with people who take pride in that connection," Scorpius said. Don't make enemies, but don't associate with any of _those_ kind.

Thuban laughed loudly, falsely. "I understand! True, that whole affair with He-Who-Mustn't-Be-Named was a bad job, but you have to admit – we do have certain things in common."

"I can't imagine what," Scorpius said, "unless you're referring to our blood status, and I hardly think that accounts for much anymore, does it?"

"You're singing the Ministry's song," Thuban said, grinning wryly. "Clever. Planning on laying low until an opportunity to show off appears, eh?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Scorpius said.

"Everyone duck!" a voice yelled, and the first years in the boats obeyed. The boats glided through a curtain of ivy into a rock tunnel, and soon had stopped at a harbor. Scorpius was first to jump out, followed quickly by Thuban; while the latter stood a few feet away, arms crossed and evidently eager to continue his conversation, Scorpius helped the two girls out of the boat. Thuban apparently decided that Scorpius wasn't going to turn back to him any time soon, because he said, "I'll see you at the Slytherin table, Malfoy," and strode away.

Pointedly ignoring Thuban, Scorpius smiled at Phernita and said as politely as he could, "You're a Druidson, you said? My father told me about your family. How's your older brother doing?"

Phernita gave Scorpius a look that quite plainly conveyed that she didn't like him in the least, and said, "You mean Linton? But he's a..."

"Yes, a Squib," Scorpius said. "I'm sure it must be difficult for him. How's he coping?"

Still looking at Scorpius suspiciously, she said, "He decided a couple of years ago to live as a Muggle. He's at a boarding school now. I think the last time he wrote, he said he wanted to study physics."

"I see. A very interesting subject, these days," Scorpius said. "Is he interested in quantum physics, by any chance?"

Phernita looked distinctly surprised. "I'm not sure," she said.

"You should ask him the next time he writes. From what I've heard, if the Muggles push much further in the subject, they'll discover magic for themselves," Scorpius said. He wished he remembered where he learned that. It had probably been during the months he'd been away from home... "Though it would be another thing entirely for them to actually use it, just imagine the implications."

"How do you know all that?" Phernita demanded.

Before Scorpius had to explain himself, the door to Hogwarts swung open, and a man with blond hair stepped forward. He introduced himself as Professor Macmillan, Deputy Headmaster and head of Hufflepuff House, and directed the students inside the stone halls of Hogwarts. Scorpius eagerly hurried inside to avoid answering Phernita's question, and as they headed into the castle he kept well away from her and from Thuban Lestrange.

"My goodness, does everyone know everyone else already?" Abigail murmured, walking along side Scorpius. "You all seemed to recognise each other."

"Only by our last names. We've heard of each other's families, that's all," Scorpius said.

The first years finally reached the room they were to wait in and started shoving their way into it. Scorpius was almost to the room when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Just a minute, Malfoy."

Scorpius stopped and looked at Professor Macmillan. "Yes, Professor?"

"There seems to be a... a problem with your luggage," Macmillan said. Scorpius remembered leaving it behind on the train, per the professors' instructions. "You're going to have to come to my office."

"Yes sir," Scorpius said, worried. Surely, nothing had happened to Lucy during transportation? Or perhaps something had been lost?

Macmillan led Scorpius through the winding halls of Hogwarts and up several flights of stairs, until the muscles in his legs started to burn and he had gotten thoroughly lost. He hoped this wouldn't be what trying to find class every day would be like. Finally, they stopped in front of a door that Macmillan unlocked with a tap of his wand, and let himself and Scorpius inside. The door clicked loudly shut, locking them inside.

The room seemed to be an office – and if the Hufflepuff-colored decorations were anything to go by, Macmillan's office. Inside was all of Scorpius's luggage – his trunk, his bag, and Lucy in her cage – and he sighed with relief. "What seems to be the problem, Professor?" he asked.

"It would be this." Macmillan unlatched Scorpius's trunk, flipped it open, and reached inside, under his robes and other clothing. He was evidently reaching all the way to the bottom of the trunk, and Scorpius's heart sank when he realized what the professor must have been looking for.

His extra self-defence, just in case someone threatened him; it was wise to have something other than a wand with which to protect himself, something that a wizard would never expect another wizard to have.

Macmillan seemed to find what he was looking for, and pulled it carefully out of the trunk. "What do you have to say about this, Malfoy?" he asked, holding the handgun as if its barrel were the handle. He clearly knew very little about the Muggle contraption, but the look on his face said that he was quite aware of its function and purpose. In the wrong hands, a gun was the non-magical equivalent of Avada Kedavra.

"Um, I, uh... It's just a Muggle thing," Scorpius said quickly.

"I'm not an idiot," Macmillan said. "I've seen a gun before. What I want to know is why you decided to bring one to Hogwarts?"

"Because..." Scorpius tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. Was he capable of giving a reason that would make Macmillan understand? "Because I... my family..."

Because his family was scared. Because when Scorpius was five, his grandfather had been convicted of the charges of murder, torture, treason, kidnapping, abuse towards Muggles, house-elves, goblins, and dragons, use of all three Unforgivable Curses, and willful allegiance under the Dark Lord Voldemort. Because when Scorpius was six, his father had just barely escaped charges of kidnapping, abuse towards Muggles and house-elves, use of the Unforgivable Imperius Curse, and willful allegiance under the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Because when Draco Malfoy was declared innocent, over a year passed before he, his wife, or his son could show their faces in public. Wherever they went, they were met with hate. In early December that year, the man whom Draco had hired to bring them food, because it was too dangerous to go shopping, had forced his way through the doorway into Malfoy Manor and threatened Scorpius's mother – first with his wand and next, after Draco had cast Expelliarmus, with the very gun that Macmillan was now holding.

Because that night, after the authorities had reluctantly come and the man had been arrested and Draco had kept a completely neutral face all day, the moment the authorities and his wife had left the room, he'd sunk to his knees, sobbing into his hands. Scorpius had tried to hug his father while he fought back his own tears. "What if he'd killed one of you?" Draco kept saying. "What if he'd killed you? I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to... I never wanted..." Scorpius had only been able to sit there, watching his father become the scared child that he must have been when Voldemort had been alive.

That year, Scorpius had spent Christmas apart from his parents. Draco had called in every favour he had in order to find his son a safe place to stay, and had eventually decided the best way to protect him from the wizarding world was to keep him away from it. Scorpius spent ten months in the home of a Muggle couple that had no idea what he was. He had learned more about the Muggle world in those ten months than the rest of the Malfoy line had learned in generations.

He had carried a gun with him to Hogwarts because the Malfoy family had learned that sometimes, the best way to escape a new threat was to turn to an old one. They were _not_ stuck in a private reality of old-fashioned family nobility while the rest of the wizarding world was changing, the way some people would say in the papers; they were changing with the world. And Draco had wanted to make sure Scorpius could defend himself from the people who didn't believe this.

"Because of my grandfather," Scorpius said. "Everyone's going to think I'm a Muggle-hater, so I brought a Muggle item to school to show them I wasn't. A Muggle-hater wouldn't own something like that, would they?"

Macmillan gave Scorpius a look as if he wasn't sure whether or not he believed someone could be that naive, and then he decided he did. "You don't know what it does, then?" he asked dubiously.

"Not really," Scorpius lied. "You pull the switch and something flies out of the end, right?"

"Basically," Macmillan said. "Malfoy, this isn't a toy. It's a Muggle _weapon_. The thing that comes out of the end is a little metal ball, and it's flying fast enough to kill someone. Do you understand?"

Scorpius furrowed his brow, as if he were confused. "I'm sorry. I wasn't aware..."

"It's all right, I guess," Macmillan said with a sigh. "But I'll be sending this back to your father and informing the Headmistress. There is no reason for you to have something like this at Hogwarts."

"Yes, sir." If that was his entire punishment, then Scorpius was the luckiest boy in the world.

"Now then," Macmillan went to the door and tapped the knob with his wand, "we'd better get to the Grand Hall. The Sorting should be starting soon." He led him outside and down to the Grand Hall.

Scorpius had almost forgotten about the Sorting. He'd certainly learned about it from his father, and about the four houses, though naturally there was only one house suited for a Malfoy. He thought about all the people he'd met so far, and wondered which houses each of them would be sorted into. Abigail Hunt would probably make Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. He wasn't as sure about Phernita Druidson, but something about her suggested Gryffindor. Thuban Lestrange would go to Slytherin, with Scorpius...

He wondered what life would be like in Slytherin. It would be dangerous, he knew – not only would Thuban be there, but almost all the followers of Voldemort had also passed through Slytherin and their children undoubtedly would, too. He'd have to constantly be on guard to keep himself from associating with any Death Eater sympathizers. Perhaps he should try to make more friends outside of his house.

But would anyone trust him? From what Scorpius had heard, the other three houses were pretty well co-existent, but Slytherin was off by itself, receiving the scorn of Gryffindor and, to a lesser extent, the other two houses. It hadn't always been this bad, but ever since Voldemort had fallen things had been slowly changing.

He didn't know how he'd handle living like that; he'd never dealt well with the dark looks and angry mutters of witches and wizards on the streets, and now, if he was not only the grandson of a Death Eater in Azkaban but also simply the next in a long line of Malfoys to pass through Slytherin, he'd only be treated worse by the houses. Somehow, he doubted his soon-to-be comrades in Slytherin would sympathize with his fears.

Macmillan quietly opened the door to the Grand Hall. Several students at their tables turned around to look, but quickly lost interest and turned back to the front of the hall, watching something at the front though Scorpius couldn't see what.

"Go join the first years," Macmillan hissed before leaving Scorpius and hurrying to the staff table. Scorpius found the others and quietly jogged to slip into the line next to Abigail.

"What did I miss?" he whispered.

"They have a singing hat. I think it's called a Sorting Hat?" she said. "It's reciting poetry. You missed its telling us about how it was made. Shh."

Scorpius quieted down and listened. Indeed, the Sorting Hat was at the front, on a three-legged stool and singing out of a tear in its brim. It was much more ragged than he'd thought it would be. He listened closely to hear as it sang the second half of its song:

_"Many pass through these hallowed halls_

_And learn their fill in seven years_

_Our job is to prepare you for what will come_

_To kindle hope and to douse your fears_

_This is a changing world you've come into_

_There are challenges you'll need to meet_

_Dark forces still loom over us_

_Soon you'll lead us to their defeat_

_But first is a time to learn and grow_

_Which is why you all have come today_

_Each of you will join a house_

_And I am here to sort you away._

_A millennium back, our great founders_

_Gave their names to our houses four_

_First, the bold, the chivalrous_

_And the brave enter into Gryffindor_

_Next is for the loyal and caring_

_Hufflepuff, hard-working and kind_

_Then on to those of intellect and wit_

_A Ravenclaw's greatest prize is the mind_

_But if you value ambition and cunning_

_You're suited to the prideful Slytherin_

_Now sit on down and put me on_

_It's time for the Sorting to begin!"_

There was a modest applause. "It's not Shakespeare, but it's impressive for a hat," Abigail whispered. Scorpius wondered what Shakespeare was.

As the Sorting got underway, the door opened again. As before, a few curious students turned to look, but this time they stayed turned around and soon half the student body was twisted around in their seats to see who had come in. Scorpius craned his neck to see who it was.

A flustered-looking boy with messy black hair and green eyes dashed into the room. Scorpius recognized him immediately; his father had pointed out this boy and his family on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and in any case he looked just like his father and _everyone_ knew what his father looked like.

Albus Severus Potter hesitated at the end of the line of first-years, looking up and down it until he spotted someone and dashed up along the line, attempting to reach a redheaded girl who was trying to subtly wave at him. He was just passing Scorpius and Abigail when someone at the nearest table – a prefect, Scorpius assumed – turned around and whispered, "Get in line and hold still!"

Albus froze, and then reluctantly joined the line, right behind Scorpius. He was breathing heavily as if he'd run all the way here.

Scorpius remembered the reporter who'd been looking for Albus earlier, and felt sorry for him. Even though he knew that the Malfoys weren't exactly best friends with the Potters, he figured it couldn't help to express sympathy. Make allies, not enemies. "Did Rita ever find you on the train?" he murmured.

Albus gave Scorpius an odd look, but nodded. "I just got away from her. I'd heard that Rita Skeeter was determined, but she just wouldn't let me go."

"I know. I ran into her before you did," Scorpius said. "She interrogated me about my family. I believe she's come to the conclusion that I'm in love with a girl I've known for all of nine hours."

Albus snorted. "You got off better than me," he said. "From the way she was talking, I'm pretty sure she thinks I'm gay."

Scorpius had to laugh, though he stifled it when the prefect gave him a look. Being careful to keep his voice low, he said, "The _Daily Prophet_ should be quite exciting tomorrow, don't you think?" he said.

"Definitely," Albus agreed, grinning. It helped both of them to be able to make jokes; it was difficult to worry about the consequences of their interviews this way. "Say, didn't I see you back at King's Cross?" he asked.

"You... might have," Scorpius said. "I think our parents may have seen each other..."

"That's right!" Albus said. "You're the Malfoy kid, aren't you? Uncle Ron told us about you."

"What did he say?" Scorpius said nervously.

"He said my cousin had better beat you on every test," Albus said. "She would have done it anyway. Rose is just a genius."

"I see," Scorpius said, smiling.

At the front of the room, Macmillan was reading off the names of the students to be sorted: the next one he called was "Druidson, Phernita!"

Scorpius turned to watch as Phernita took her place on the stool, and the Sorting Hat was set down on her head. It sat for all of ten seconds before calling, "GRYFFINDOR!" The table erupted into cheers and she jogged to join her new house, beaming.

There went any chance of her and Scorpius ever becoming friends. He sighed inwardly. Gryffindors and Slytherins simply never mixed.

After a moment, watching as four more students were sorted, Albus said, "My brother's in Gryffindor already. James."

Scorpius wasn't surprised; after all, James was a Potter. "You're going to be a Gryffindor too?"

"I hope so," Albus said. "James said I _could_ be put in Slytherin, and I guess there's always a chance, but I hope I'm not – no offence or anything, I mean I know you're a Malfoy and all..."

"It's fine," Scorpius said. "I've heard that most of the time, first years get sorted into the same house as their families. You've got a good shot at Gryffindor."

"Really?" Albus said. "Who said that?"

"My father," Scorpius said. "Besides, the Sorting Hat wouldn't put a student in a house if they hated it. They wouldn't do any good for that house, would they?"

"I guess not." Albus seemed much more at ease now.

"Hunt, Abigail!"

"I'll see you later, Scorpius!" Abigail said. She practically _skipped_ up to the hat, she was so eager. She was grinning broadly when she put the hat on, and was still grinning nearly a full minute later, when the Sorting Hat finally declared "RAVENCLAW!" and she skipped to her clapping table.

Scorpius watched with mixed emotions. On the one hand, he was glad that Abigail had made it into a house that suited her so well. Yet this was essentially the end of their companionship. In different houses, they'd have no real chance to get together. Plus, Abigail was a Muggle-born, and Scorpius was about to be sorted into Mudblood-Haters Central.

"Is she the friend that Rita thinks you like?" Albus asked.

"Yes, that was her," Scorpius said.

"She looks nice."

"Yeah."

They remained silent for a few minutes, watching with disinterest until Macmillan called "Lestrange, Thuban!" Scorpius instantly tensed, watching the boy walk forward. He noted that the rest of the Great Hall had tensed as well at the familiar surname.

Thuban barely perched on the end of his stool, knowing full well that he didn't need to make himself comfortable. The Sorting Hat instantly assigned his house:

"SLYTHERIN!"

He stood again to wild applause from his table, stamping feet and hooting. Heading to his seat, he turned to look at the line of first years yet to be sorted, locked eyes with Scorpius, and smirked at him as if he were speaking to him: _I'll see you soon_.

Scorpius never wanted to see Thuban Lestrange again.

"Linna, Rochester!" The dark atmosphere cast over the hall by Lestrange, like some remnants of Voldemort's will clinging to the boy's name, was not dispelled as Rochester stepped up, was sorted into Gryffindor, and sat down. And it only grew darker as the next name was called: "Malfoy, Scorpius!"

A hollow, terrified feeling filled him, and he walked in a daze up to the front, sat on the stool, and allowed the Sorting Hat to be placed on his head. It would be over in less than five seconds. He would join the Slytherins. Even so...

_He did not want to be a Slytherin_.

"Well well, what's this?" the hat muttered in Scorpius's ears. "You're a mess of contradictions, do you know that?"

Scorpius sat rigidly as the hat studied his mind. "Odd, quite odd," it finally said. "You seem to think you're a Slytherin, and yet... Well, you're certainly intelligent, but not particularly cunning... I can't see you manipulating someone simply to serve your own purposes... Not much ambition in you..."

As the Sorting Hat muttered, he only felt his fear grow. What was happening? Was he simply about to become a miserable Slytherin?

"Goodness, I'm hard-pressed to find a Slytherin-esque thought in your head!" the hat said. "I can put you in there if you want, but do you really think you belong there?"

Of course Scorpius belonged in Slytherin. The entire Malfoy line had gone through Slytherin—

"Well, that's not exactly true, there was Libra Malfoy in 1438, if I remember correctly she was sorted to Ravenclaw..." the hat interjected.

But Draco had gone there, and he expected his son to go the same way, to make the family proud...

"There are more ways than one to make them proud," the hat said. "Remember what you said about your grandfather."

_I don't plan on doing anything that would put me on the same path that he followed._ He had said that only a few hours ago. And wasn't it true? He didn't want to end up that way; but more importantly, Scorpius never wanted to live with, to be connected with those kinds of people. Because that wasn't who he was.

He realized that he simply didn't fit in with the Slytherins.

He was willing to be put somewhere – anywhere – else. But he couldn't survive seven years residing with and a lifetime associated with the Slytherin house. _Put me somewhere else_.

"I'm glad you listened to reason," the Sorting Hat said. "I'd hate for you to end up somewhere you don't belong. Now, let's see, with that out of the way... you're a resilient one, I'll give you that. Very dedicated, and such loyalty to your family. Let's put you in... HUFFLEPUFF!"

Scorpius Malfoy, heir to the proud Malfoy family, a Hufflepuff. For a moment the silent students in the Great Hall was almost as stunned as he was; then, the Hufflepuff table roared with cheers and applause. Several students at the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables started clapping as well. As Scorpius walked mechanically to his new table, about half of the Hufflepuff students leaped up to give him a standing ovation and pound him on the back as he passed, offering comments: "Brave boy, Malfoy, let's hope the rest of your family ends up like you!" "Never thought one of _you_ would switch from the dark side!" "Welcome aboard, Malfoy, good to see you over here!" "Mate, your granddad's gonna break out of Azkaban to come kill you."

Scorpius sat down, glanced up front, and saw Macmillan giving him a horrified look. Professor Macmillan was the head of his house, he remembered. He didn't realize he had started grinning until he looked away, accidentally glanced over at the Slytherin table, and saw the look Thuban was giving him. The smile slid off his face, and he looked up front again. He was afraid he'd just broken one of his father's pieces of advice: don't make any enemies you don't have to.

Marvin Maxwell was called up, and as the Sorting continued, the Great Hall calmed down. It remained calm until Sara Perry had been placed into Ravenclaw, and Macmillan called, "Potter, Albus!"

Immediately, the hall was filled with whispers: dark mutters from the Slytherins, excited words from the Gryffindors, and a mix at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. Still looking anxious about his house assignment, Albus took his place on the stool and the Sorting Hat was placed on his head.

He didn't have anything to worry about, Scorpius knew. The hat would make sure he didn't end up in a house that didn't fit him. There wasn't a chance Albus would join Slytherin. It was practically guaranteed that Gryffindor would gain—

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

There was no moment of shocked silence, at least not from the Hufflepuff table. If they'd given Scorpius a warm welcome, it was nothing compared to how they yelled and cheered for Albus. Several students nearest the Sorting Hat even jumped up to take his hand as he walked towards his new table.

Albus himself looked thoroughly confused, though not quite displeased. He faced the Gryffindor table (which was frozen in stony dismay) to give his older brother a mystified shrug, before joining the Hufflepuff table.

"That is enough!" Macmillan bellowed. "All of you, sit down! Raske, Cassius: get up here!"

The Hufflepuffs quickly obeyed. Albus looked around for a familiar face, found one, and sat down in an empty space across the table from Scorpius. "If I knew that was going to happen," he whispered, "I might've insisted on being a Gryffindor after all."

Scorpius chuckled. "I suppose Hufflepuff is having a lucky day, isn't it?"

"Looks like it," Albus agreed. He suddenly grinned, but it was a nervous expression. "I wonder what Mum and Uncle Ron are going to say when I tell them I'm a Hufflepuff."

That was a good point. Scorpius was glad there were several hundred miles and all of Hogwarts's defences between himself and his father. "Or what our dads will do when they find out that we're in the same house as each other."

"Complain to the Headmistress, I'd expect," Albus said.

He suddenly stuck his hand across the table. "What do you say we make it even worse for them? Shall we officially bring an end to the Potter-Malfoy rivalry?"

"Sounds like a plan." Scorpius shook on it, sealing the informal treaty. Thinking of Abigail's words earlier, he added, "Let's make a fresh start."

"Agreed."

Without another word to each other, they watched as the remaining students were sorted. They only made sound on a few occasions; clapping each time Hufflepuff gained a student, and Albus stood up to applaud when Rose Weasley-Granger was made a Gryffindor.

That night in the Hufflepuff common room, most of the attention was focused on their most valued acquisition, Albus Severus Potter. But even though most of the attention was focused on Albus, Scorpius didn't feel left out, the way he usually did in crowds. Most of the time, either everyone ignored him because they didn't know who he was, or they ignored him because they did. Even the Hufflepuff ghost, the Fat Friar, drifted by to welcome him.

Scorpius wondered how he'd convince his father that this was where he was supposed to be.

x

On the way to breakfast, Albus and Scorpius saw James and Rose. They immediately veered towards Albus, plainly with quite a bit to say to him. Scorpius could only imagine what was coming.

"You might want to go on without me," Albus said, stopping. "This could take a while."

"Right," Scorpius said, and hurried in another direction. He didn't want to be caught in the middle of this little family reunion.

Almost at the entrance to the Great Hall, he heard someone call, "Scorpius!" He glanced over his shoulder.

Abigail was jogging up to him, holding a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in one hand. "I wish I'd known you were going to be a Hufflepuff," she said indignantly. "The Sorting Hat had me pegged either as a Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw, but since I'd thought that other boy had said you were going to be a Slytherin, I let the hat put me wherever it wanted."

"Sorry," Scorpius said. "I wasn't expecting to become a Hufflepuff."

"I could tell that from your face," Abigail said, with a sly smirk. She held up the _Daily Prophet_. "Anyway, I wanted to show you this. One of the other students got a copy, and I borrowed it. According to that Rita Skeeter, we're 11-year-old Romeo and Juliet, and you plan on defying your family and everything they stand for to marry me someday. Oh, and your name is Scorpio now." She looked completely amused by the entire situation.

Draco was going to kill Scorpius. "Who are Romeo and Juliet?" he asked.

Abigail looked surprised. "It's a Muggle story, about a tragic couple. Shakespeare."

"Oh." There was that Shakespeare again. At least now Scorpius had first names: Romeo and Juliet Shakespeare, whoever they were. He'd have to look them up later.

"We have to sit at our house tables, don't we?" Abigail asked as they walked into the Great Hall together.

"I think so," Scorpius said.

"Too bad," Abigail sighed. "But I heard Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have Defence Against the Dark Arts together this afternoon. That's something to look forward to."

Scorpius was about to reply, but before he could, someone stepped in front of him, arms crossed. "Malfoy."

Judging by the look on Thuban's face, he wasn't planning on having a pleasant chitchat about their grandparents again. "Do you want something, Lestrange?" he asked warily.

"Just curious about something," Thuban said casually. "I wonder how you plan to face your father again. A Hufflepuff. Friends with a Potter. Attempting to seduce Mudbloods."

"Actually," Abigail broke in, "that was a nasty bit of misinformation which—"

"Not now," Scorpius said quietly. She took the hint and backed off a few steps.

"I suppose," Thuban continued, as if Abigail had said nothing, "that your father won't be able to look you in the eye, once he hears about this. He'll be so ashamed."

"Actually, _I_ suppose that he'll be glad that I'm not sharing a house with the kind of people the Malfoys try to avoid."

Thuban bristled visibly. Many of the nearby students in the Great Hall had stopped eating their breakfast, watching the argument that had started between the heirs of two of the most notorious pureblood families in the wizarding world.

"What would your grandfather say?" Thuban snapped.

"My grandfather is in Azkaban!"

"Good thing he is. I can't imagine what he'd say if he knew that his only grandchild is a blood traitor!"

"Better a blood traitor than a neo-Death Eater!"

An outraged scowl crossed Thuban's face. Sometime while they had been shooting retorts at each other, he had drawn his wand, and now he held it up like a rapier. Scorpius hardly had time to fumble his wand out of a pocket in his robe before Thuban shouted, "Incendio!"

"_Protego!_"

Scorpius couldn't make a very strong shield charm. Then again, Thuban couldn't cast a very strong hex. The feeble stream of fire and the shield collided with each other in midair and disappeared. Thuban seemed to be much more surprised than Scorpius was by this turn of events.

Luckily, Professor Macmillan hurried forward before the fight could progress. "What do you two think you're doing?" he demanded. "Lestrange, fifty points from Slytherin for instigating a fight – and on the first day! Malfoy, thirty points from Hufflepuff for not trying to get out of it!"

"Fifty points!" Thuban said. "But sir, Malfoy is just as guilty as I am!"

"I saw the whole thing, Lestrange. You were far more confrontational than he was."

"This – this is favoritism," Thuban said, infuriated. "How dare you! My mother—"

"The long line of Lestrange purebloods, yes I know," Macmillan said. "But the Macmillans are just as pure as you are, and we're much more popular with the Minister of Magic. I suggest you keep that in mind when you attempt to make threats that require your family to back them. I notice that Malfoy here isn't trying the same thing."

Thuban clenched his jaw but didn't say anything else.

"In addition to the points from your houses," Macmillan said, speaking to both Thuban and Scorpius, "after dinner both of you will have detention. I'm sure the house elves will love some help washing the dishes in the kitchen."

"What—" Thuban started.

"Do you care to lose any more points?" Macmillan asked.

Thuban stared at Macmillan for an instant, then whirled around and stomped off to the Slytherin table.

Macmillan watched him for a moment with a sour look on his face, but then turned to Scorpius. "Where did you learn that Shield Charm?" he asked.

"From my father, sir," Scorpius said. "He wanted to make sure something like _that_ didn't happen."

Macmillan nodded thoughtfully. "I hope your parents told you to be careful about how you use that, Scorpius."

"Well, Mum did warn me not to show off in Defence Against the Dark Arts," Scorpius said.

Macmillan snorted. "Good advice."

When he had left them and returned to the High Table, Abigail said, "If we partner up for anything in Defence Against the Dark Arts, you're with me."

x

Scorpius had almost finished his breakfast when Albus, James, and Rose came in. Albus sat down next to Scorpius with an exasperated snarl.

"I take it they don't like the fact that you're a Hufflepuff?" Scorpius asked.

"No, it's not that." Albus said. "They just can't believe that I'm hanging out with a Malfoy."

"Hanging out with a Malfoy?" Scorpius said dryly. "You must be mad."

"That's about what they told me," Albus said. "I told them we'd made a pact to get along, for our dads' sakes."

"What did they say?"

"They said I'm daft to trust a Malfoy's word." He shot Scorpius a guilty look. "Sorry about them."

"Don't worry about it. I don't mind." That was a lie, but he was nevertheless used to that kind of treatment.

Albus glanced up. "The mail's here."

Hundreds of owls swooped in through the windows and whirled around the ceiling, like a tornado of wings and beaks. To Scorpius's surprise, one of the owls diving down to deliver packages to the students was Lucy. She dropped a white letter in front of Scorpius, stole two pieces of bacon, and took off again.

"Who's it from?" Albus asked.

Scorpius flipped the letter over to look at the seal holding it closed – definitely the Malfoy seal. "My dad." He tore open the envelope, pulled out the thick paper folded inside it, and read:

'_Scorpius,_

_You've certainly made quite a stir for your fist day at Hogwarts. This morning I had the pleasure of reading a piece of rubbish about you by Rita Skeeter and getting your gun mailed back to me by Ernie Macmillan with a note asking that I please keep it in a more secure place. I hope you don't plan on causing this much trouble the rest of the school year._

_However, the reason I'm writing you is because of the so-called 'article' Ms. Skeeter published in the _Daily Prophet_. While I have no doubt that most of it is completely made up, I know from experience that she has a tendency of keeping a kernel of fact at the root of her fiction. If any part of her story is true, that you'd rather denounce your grandfather than claim any ties to _that_ sort of people, then I'm very proud of you. That's the precise attitude we need to take when confronted by the wizarding world. It's little comments like what you said that will eventually help rebuild the reputation of the Malfoy family._

_Although I sincerely hope that Ms. Skeeter was simply pulling words out of her arse when she said you're enamored of a Mudblood. Gaining their loyalty is one thing, but don't take it too far._

_Do say hello to the Lestranges' boy from us._

_Draco Malfoy.'_

Scorpius stared blankly at the last sentence. He'd royally messed that one up. Perhaps he'd get off the hook for completely destroying the relations between the Malfoy and Lestrange families by reminding his father that he wasn't supposed to socialize with '_that_ sort of people,' the ones that still promoted Voldemort's ideals.

Albus had apparently been reading over Scorpius's shoulder, because he said, "Do you think he knows you're a Hufflepuff yet?"

"It doesn't look like it," Scorpius said. His father definitely would have mentioned that if he'd known.

Still, he'd approved of what Scorpius had said about Lucius Malfoy, in a way. Maybe he would be glad his son was in Hufflepuff, for the same reason.

Though it would be a stretch to get him used to the idea that he was a friend of Harry Potter's son. And that he had gotten in a fight with Thuban Lestrange before he'd been away from home for twenty-four hours.

"Mum and Dad sent a letter!" Albus shouted, jumping up as a pure white owl flapped down to put an envelope in his outstretched hands. He opened it, grinning, but his smile immediately turned to shock as he read the first lines. "I don't believe it! Rita Skeeter really did say I'm gay!"

Scorpius laughed. "Your parents don't believe her, do they?"

"No, but what if someone else does?" Albus said. "Look at this!" He sat down and held the letter between himself and Scorpius so they could read it together. It took Scorpius a moment for it to sink in that he was reading a letter written by Harry Potter, one of the few names that his father frowned at every time he heard, no matter how polite he was trying to be.

He was doing things far differently than his father had wanted him to, disobeying some of his parents' instructions so soon after leaving them: don't start fights, don't make enemies. Still, he didn't think his parents would be all that displeased with him. He remembered the last instruction his father had given him before letting him go, whispered into his ear:

"_Make the Malfoy family proud_."

Scorpius was doing the best he could.

--**End**--


End file.
